Return of the Dragons
by TimeShard13
Summary: Imagined scenario assuming R L J. AU after the Red Wedding. A what-if based on Daenerys coming to Westeros and winning the Iron Throne, believing Jon to be the rightful heir. This started with an idea I had of Robb and maybe Catelyn being alive getting free from Freys only to find Targaryens, and Jon specifically on the throne. Of course they're a bit confused. All stark kids alive
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Jon**

**This story mostly follows the book universe, but borrows a few things from the tv series as well. It takes place after the fifth book and sixth season. There will most likely be spoilers for both though this story is very very au so I doubt it will be noticeable unless you know what to look for. Also I haven't actually watched season six yet, I just know what happens in it so this story definitely won't match up very well with it.**

Jon Snow knelt on the hard stone floor of the Great Hall in King's Landing. There was not a large gathering of people, only the Queen's most trusted. Jon thought that was well enough, seeing as the large black dragon took up a significant amount of room as it was.

"Jon Snow," He lifted his gaze to meet the violet eyes of the young Targaryen Queen who was seated in the Iron Throne. "I, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, with these courtiers as witness, pronounce you to be Jon Targaryen, the true son of Rhaegar Targaryen, and King of Westeros. Arise."

And so the boy who was a bastard no longer did, and even the Mother of Dragons bowed her head. Jon was now the third head of the Targaryen dragon, and as Rhaegar's only living child he would rule alongside Daenerys and Aegon Targaryen, though both men knew who held the real power. Jon's face remained impassive as the people in the room dispersed until only he and Daenerys remained. He waited, silent.

"We have but one problem left to face, Jon, and I'm sure you're more aware of it then I."

"Yes, my lady. The matter of the North." It was all the council had been talking about since they had finished securing the South. When Daenerys Stormborn had arrived in Westeros, bringing three dragons and a handful of loyal advisers, to unite forces with Aegon Targaryen who was already well on his way to conquering the Stormlands, not much had stood in her way. With Tywin Lannister dead, Cersei disgraced, and a young boy on the Iron throne, both King's Landing and House Lannister were well on their way to crumbling on their own. All it took was the sight of three dragons flying overhead to convince most of their banner men to abandon ship. Stannis Baratheon's fight had already been finished as well, the man himself dying in the North along with most of his troops. The only trouble they had encountered so far had been from the Tyrells who, after swearing allegiance to the new queen, had promptly begun looking for any possible marriage arrangements. Getting Dorne to swear fealty had been easy as well and their troops had served the Targaryens well in taking over Westeros. Dorne was the strongest, and most certain, ally they had by far, especially considering Aegon had agreed to a marriage with Arianne Martell.

"Yes." The Queen stated after a long moment. "_That matter of the North. _And the Riverlands as well, though that isn't quite as important. If we can control the North, they should follow peaceably enough."

Jon felt a twinge of anger at that. "The North and the Riverlands only joined the war to get justice against the Lannisters, they never wanted anything to do with your Iron Throne." He stood straighter under her annoyed stare. "My Lady."

Daenerys leaned forward. "That is precisely our problem. They don't want to have anything to do with my kingdom. Helping fight the war against the Lannisters is not the same as supporting the Targaryens. They declared their own King, why should they kneel to us now simply because he's dead? The Riverlands side with the North and the North will fall when the Starks do. I say we execute them. For all their honor let us not forget who aided the Usurper in his quest for the throne, dear nephew." She paused, looking for Jon's reaction.

He did not hide his anger as he thought of the people he had called his family. Only the four youngest still remained. "Whatever the part Lord Eddard Stark played in Robert's Rebellion and its aftermath, he is dead. Along with his wife and his eldest son and heir. All that remain of the Starks are four children, the eldest of which is only fourteen. They had nothing to do with the grievous wrongs done to the Targaryens."

"You would have me spare them when Rhaegar's own children, your brother and sister, were brutally murdered?" Daenerys' voice began but family was not something Jon was willing to back down on.

"My Lady, I fully aware of the fate of the Targaryens, but Lord Stark had nothing to do with the deaths of the innocent children. Call him a fool and a usurper if you will, but Eddard was nothing if not honorable. When the Usurper called for yours and your brother's heads', Stark, the king's own hand, opposed him at risk of treason. I need not remind you that it was Lord Stark who found me, who took me in and raised me as his own son. He hid me from certain death at the hands of his best friend, knowing full well the risks he put on his own wife and son." Jon spared a glance at the Queen and was dismayed to see her face stonier than usual.

"If you kill innocent children who have already been through hell, you will no better than the Usurper, no better than the Mad King who burned his enemies alive, and look what happened to them." Daenerys' temper was rising, as Jon could clearly see. He took a breath. "My Lady, there is no better way to guarantee a full on northern rebellion than by killing House Stark. If nothing else, you must see that. There are other, better, more effective ways to gain their loyalty."

"Without seating a Stark as the Warden of the North?" Daenerys gave Jon a pointed look, then let out a small laugh. "It would almost seem that you preferred being the bastard of Eddard Stark to being a Targaryen, ruler of the Seven Kingdoms." Jon knew better than to rise at her thinly veiled jibe. She sighed and leaned forward. "Tell me then, Your Grace, how would you deal with the Starks."

Jon didn't hesitate. "Sansa Stark and I were the ones who rallied the North to defeat the Boltons and win back Winterfell in the first place. Afterwards, she became Queen Regent of the North until such time as her younger brother, Rickon, was old enough to take over the rule for himself." The process hadn't been quite as smooth as that. There had been many debates over who should rule the North, though surprisingly they were more a result of no one wanting the role, than the reverse. After the horrors Sansa had been through, another marriage and more politics was the last thing she wanted. They had all laughed at the idea of Arya Stark, the wild child and now a hardened killer, ever becoming the Lady of Winterfell. By rights the role should have gone to Bran, but he was the least interested out of all of them, and with his injury, having children and producing an heir was not a possibility. "I know you do not believe me, but the Starks themselves pose you no threat, it's their banner men that are the problem, and the only way to control them is by placing a Stark in control."

The Queen opened her mouth to object, but Jon wasn't finished. "I know you will not stand for that. But what if." Here he hesitated for the first time. He himself was not happy with his own suggestion. "What if you named me the Warden in the North and Lord of Winterfell until Rickon is fit to do it himself. He is still young yet, there are many years until he would rule. In that time we can work on solidifying the North's loyalty without their objection and Rickon could be taught to love the Targaryens. He's nothing but a child now, but in another ten years he could very well be a powerful ally." He left the 'or enemy' unspoken, but he knew the Queen would hear it all the same.

Daenerys didn't react for a long moment and Jon began to grow nervous. When she spoke however, her annoyance had been replaced by a more conversational tone. "I am sure," She said slowly, "that it has not escaped your notice that I have no true claim to the throne as long as you are alive." Jon didn't respond. "Between the two of us and Aegon, only you could hope to gain the support of the North, as a Stark, and you would have the support of Dorne, as Rhaegar's true son. Even the other Houses and the small people, though they will not admit it, would rather see a man raised by the honorable Eddard Stark as ruler of the seven kingdoms rather than an outsider from the East. I have few soldiers and a dragon can only do so much. And yet, here you are asking me to hand you the entirety of the North." Her lips twitched, betraying her humor.

Jon just shook his head. "With all due respect, Your Grace, I do believe the fear and destruction a dragon can bring far outweighs any advantage I may have. You also forget that I have never desired a throne, not in the North and certainly not in this gods forsaken city. Ask of me what you will, but do not make yourself out to be the weaker party."

Daenerys smiled at that, as he had known she would. "Very well, Jon, but these are my conditions. I will let your precious Starks live only because you are so willing to vouch for them. You are a Targaryen and family, whether you like it or not. However," Jon held his breath as the Queen paused before revealing her main condition. "You shall name me your Queen and together we will rule over both the North and South. Also, Bran and Arya shall come and live with us in King's Landing for a while. Sansa and Rickon must remain in Winterfell until you are able to go there yourself, which won't happen until you and I are married. Do you understand?"

Jon gave a curt nod. "Perfectly." And he did. In return for the lives of the children he had once thought of as siblings, Jon Snow would become Jon Targaryen for good, married to the Mother of Dragons. Through him she would have control of the North and her quest for the seven kingdoms of Westeros would be complete.

I'm afraid Daenerys came off as a bit unlikeable/harsh in this, but her entire life she has been struggling to obtain the throne which she sees as her birthright. Also, she doesn't strike me as a person to forgive her enemies easily, especially those who have committed such atrocious crimes against her family. Also this is from Jon's view more or less and he has no particular love for her at the moment.

More will be revealed next chapter. Please R+R :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Jon**

When Sansa had shown up at the Wall, the only family he had left, Jon had known that he would do anything in his power to help her. He was free from his duty to the Night's Watch thanks to his death and subsequent revival, so he had no problem with dropping everything to help his sister fight to regain her family home.

What Jon did have a problem with, was the fact that all the northern lords he and Sansa went to for help seemed to think he was going to be the next King of the North. Jon had politely, but firmly, refused any such claims. As a bastard he had no right to rule and he had no desire to do so anyway. Though he didn't admit it, he couldn't help thinking of Lady Catelyn as well. He knew she had always had a fear, no matter how small, that her husband's bastard would take what was rightfully her children's.

And yet, here he was, being pushed into a position that should rightfully be Sansa's. However, without a leader or at least someone to rally under, the North was crumbling. It had been crumbling ever since the Young Wolf was lost to the Freys. Someone had to unite the banner men and keep them from dispersing or turning to other northern powers such as the Boltons, and like it or not, Jon was the only one to do it. While Sansa was a Stark, and certainly a large help in the more political aspects of things, she had no experience leading men and she hadn't been taught about battle growing up like Robb and Jon had.

And so Jon had lead them, a small group at first, to take back Winterfell from the Boltons. After that, more northerners joined them, and slowly, clumsily at first, the last two Starks won back the north. Being Lord Commander of the Wall was nothing compared to commanding all the Northern armies as well as working with the Tullys.

But it had worked out in the end. Better than either of them could ever have hoped. After they rose the Stark banner over Winterfell once more and the new spread, a wildling woman showed up with Rickon and his wolf. Jon wasn't sure he had ever been as happy, listen to little Rickon tell his tales of adventure, knowing that he and Bran had escaped alive. Just one month later and it was Bran who returned home, and Hodor and the Reeds with him. But as happy as Jon had been to see them, it paled in comparison to seeing Arya for the first time in years. It had been months since Bran had returned and Jon and Sansa both were losing hope that their last sibling was still alive. When she walked through the gates of Winterfell, they hadn't recognized her at first. She had grown, her hair was shorter, and she was wearing dirtied breeches, but it was the way she moved, confidently with a sort of lethal grace, that really threw them off. But when she walked up to Jon and threw her arms around him without the slightest hesitation he knew. He laughed to see the the thin sword tied around her waist.

That was all in the past, though. That's not who Jon was anymore. Howland Reed had sure of that when he told Jon the truth after he came to Winterfell to swear fealty and find his wandering children. Daenerys and Aegon Targaryen had made sure of it when they arrived at Winterfell with three dragons.

'I helped free the North, but look what I've gotten them now." Jon thought, sitting beneath the one weirwood in King's Landing, his direwolf beside him. 'Life, certainly, maybe even some sort of small justice, but not the freedom they had wanted.' The North, however unwillingly, had bent its knees to the Iron Throne once more and Jon was responsible for that. 'Still,' he supposed, 'anything is better than death. At least the war is over.' When they had first met, Jon couldn't help but think that for all he knew, the Targaryen girl could be as mad as her father and brother had been.

Fortunately, Jon now knew that, while stubborn and stern, Daenerys Targaryen was nothing if not caring towards those whom she thought needed her protection. It was just a pity that didn't extend to his own family. But Jon was about to become Warden of the North, he would see that no harm came to them if it was the last thing he did, dragons be damned. Jon smiled wryly. Apparently he was meant to play the part of turncloak. First he had been a Crow turned wildling, then a wildling turned Crow, and now a Stark turned Targaryen.

Jon stood. Daenerys would be expecting him for dinner soon and it wouldn't due to miss her announcing his new position in the North. He might not like it, but for now Jon would do what had to be done to ensure peace. If a young girl from across the sea could learn to play this twisted game then so could he.

In with the new, out with the old. That seemed to be Daenerys Targaryen's aim at the moment. Jon may not have known the men on Robert Baratheon's council, but he was sure none of them were dining with the Targaryens that night. The Queen, for though they had not been wed everyone called her the Queen, sat at the head of the table with Jon to her right and Aegon to her left. Jon still didn't know what to make of the young man. He was well educated and had been raised to rule, but he had also been raised to know what peasant life was like. Sometime, Jon thought the older boy would make the best King out of the three of them, but other times he could be even more volatile than Daenerys.

The Queen herself was deep in conversation with Barristan Selmy, leaving Jon free to gauge the Queen's other followers, many of whom he had not met in person yet. Her Dothraki Queensguard stood behind her, against the far wall of the room. There was a scattering of Unsullied on the other walls and in front of the entryways. Though vastly different, Jon got the same impression from them. Intimidating and deadly, yes, but loyal to a fault. More like sheep, he mused, than sellswords.

The rest of her company, seated around the table, was less impressive. Some wore armor, some dresses, and some were garbed in exotic fabrics from the east, but all chatted merrily while politely picking at the food before them. Aegon's sellswords were notably absent, which was probably for the best. They had become the Targaryens new city watch, of sorts, though some of the old still remained.

"And when is this wedding of yours to be, your Grace?" Jon looked round, startled to see a man clothed entirely in yellow down to his beard looking at him intently.

"My lady wishes to wait until King's Landing is in a better state, Ser." Jon repeated what Daenerys had said to him a day earlier. "She says that the wealthy should not feast while the small folk starve."

The man eyed him and Jon hid his nerves. This man was one of the Queen's and many of them bore no love for Jon. "And when might that be your Grace?" His voice was mocking.

"No more than three or four moons, Daario. I've seen to it that the local lords are helping rebuild farmlands and shipments of supplies are due in from the east. With the help of my Unsullied it shouldn't take longer than that to get the city presentable again." The man, Daario, nodded looking embarrassed at having been overheard by his Queen.

Daenerys stood, waiting for the room to fall silent before speaking. "It is no secret that the North has been posing quite a few problems for us, however, I believe we have found a solution. I am naming Jon Targaryen the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell for the time being. As he is part Stark himself, it is my hope that he will be able to gain the loyalty of both the northern lords as well as keep an eye on the Starks themselves. After our wedding he shall journey north, while Aegon and I remain here in King's Landing. Are there any objections to this course of action?"

There were none, though Jon hadn't expected there to be any. The feast continued on after that. Jon couldn't help but be reminded that at the last feast he had seen he had sulked out in the cold while his family sat inside at the high table. Now Lord and Lady Stark were dead, and Robb as well.

As he looked down at his red and black tunic, his new silver crown weighing heavily on his head, Jon felt like the worst turncloak in history. No amount of reasoning, no amount of telling himself he was doing this to protect his family, could erase the that thought squirming in the back of his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Robb**

**After finishing reading the fifth book and watching most of the tv series, I was re-inspired to write this story. However, I've changed quite a few things in the first two chapters, so if you haven't read them, I would really suggest going back and doing so because I'm not sure this story will make much sense otherwise. If anyone has actually stuck with me given the very long very unplanned hiatus, then you have my sincerest thanks, I hope you enjoy :) **

The only thing Robb could see beside the stone walls of his prison was his mother in the cell across the corridor. His entire body ached from the cold and the damp and from being chained to a wall with no proper food for weeks.

At first, Robb had waited for his men to overpower the Freys, but as the days passed he realized that they were not coming. He could only hope, though he suspected that it was in vain, that his troops outside the castle had been taken captive like the men who had been inside the wedding with him and his mother. When the Rains of Castamere first started playing and Robb had realized that the Freys had betrayed him, he had thought they were all dead. The banquet hall was surrounded by Frey soldiers and most of his own were drunk and weaponless.

For all of their faults, though, let it never be said that the Freys were completely without sanity. A living king made a much better bargaining tool than a live one, and by keeping all of the other guests, who had mostly been middling to high lords and battle commanders, the Freys could ensure that the houses of the north would not retaliate.

Unfortunately, being alive wasn't much of a consolation at the moment. Robb had quickly lost track of the days, locked in the dark with irregular meals, but he knew he and his men must have been in the Freys dungeon for months by now. He glumly wondered if the outside world even knew their King in the North was alive. At first, he had assumed they must, but as the time dragged on and the Freys made no mention of ransoms or hostages, Robb began to doubt.

He didn't know what was worse, the quiet chatter between his men, his mother and himself dying down until they went would go for weeks without a word spoken between them, or the not knowing mixed with flakes of out of context information. Robb decided on the latter. Every now and then the guards' talk could be overheard, but piecemeal information was more disorienting than anything.

There was a new Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Wildlings were coming south. One man seemed convinced that white walkers and creatures of winter were roaming the north, waiting to break through the wall and kill everyone in Westeros. The man had been shivering from fear and Robb would have laughed but he couldn't bring himself to.

There was news of the war, of course. Stannis was in the north being puppeted by a red enchantress. Or perhaps he was already dead, frozen in a blizzard. Tywin Lannister was killed by his son, Cersei was disgraced, the Iron Islanders were on the move, the stories only got wilder from there. There were rumors of a girl with dragons, some even said that the Stormlands were being raided by a Targaryen prince.

Worst of all were the mentions of his sisters. The Freys made no secrets of those, openly taunting the Young Wolf and his mother. At first they had said that Arya Stark was being shipped north to be wed to Ramsay Bolton and that Sansa Stark had murdered King Joffrey herself. Then Sansa was missing and Arya was dead. Most recently, though still forever ago, Robb had been told it was Sansa who had marred the Bolton bastard. The guards loved taunting that the most. It was no secret that Ramsay was a cruel and temperamental man, scarily fond of inflicting pain on others. There were times when Robb would find himself praying that his sisters really were dead. Better that than in the hands of flaying mad man.

There had been no new information for weeks, no food for days. His meager water supply had run out two days ago and he knew the others were faring no better. A sense of dread settled in his stomach. Robb knew something big had happened, but regardless of who was benefiting on the outside, it was going poorly for the Freys' prisoners.

Robb was woken with a start by a half muffled shout. "Mother!" He quickly stumbled to the door of his cell, peering out through the bars. Opposite him, he could see his mother, standing with a hand over her mouth. Her cell wasn't directly in front of his but down farther, she could see something he could not.

It was only then, straining to see farther, that Robb noticed the sounds of soldiers in the dungeons, many more than the usual handful of guards. Someone began shouting orders, he could hear chains rattling and the sounds of doors being unlocked. He stepped back, waiting. He did not allow himself to hope.

For one long moment, when the door that had imprisoned him for so long finally opened, Robb thought he might start laughing hysterically. And wouldn't that make a sight, the adolescent King in the North driven to insanity. It wasn't Freys who had finally come, not Stark bannermen or Tully's, not even Baratheons or Lannisters. Standing before him were two soldier in black with a red three headed dragon standing proudly on their chests. The outlandish rumors were true. The Targaryens had returned. Robb doubted this boded any better for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Catelyn**

**I'm purely going off of memory here, so if certain details don't match up with the book or if I accidentally changed something to make it work better for the story, I hope you can forgive me. This is very au anyway, so it shouldn't make much difference. **

The first warm meal she had had in months came from Targaryen soldiers sitting at the same tables the Frey's wedding feast had been spread upon. She felt as if the world were mocking her. Catelyn Stark had no idea how long had passed since their imprisonment. She up until a few minutes ago she hadn't know that the Targaryens were truly in Westeros, much less that they had ended the war and now the rightful rules of the seven kingdoms. She was exhausted, and scared, though she would never admit it, and she wanted nothing more than run outside and beg the nearest person to give her news on her family. Her only consolation was that her son, the only child she knew she had left, was sitting beside her.

Dressed in prison rags with a beard and dirt covered face her brave Robb looked nothing the man who had captured Jaime Lannister. There was a comfort in that, though. The soldiers knew that they had northern lords in their possession, but were still unaware that the King was with them. Thankfully none of his men had given him away either. Catelyn didn't think a rival king would be well received.

It was late morning when all of the Frey prisoners, Robb's men and a scattering of others, had been released, shackled together, and sat in the dining hall with their food. A large man, the one Catelyn had judged to be the leader, stood up, calling for silence. Beside her Robb tensed.

"Now listen up, all of you." His voice boomed through the too quiet hall. Where were all the Freys? She wondered. "I've been told that some of you are high and mighty northern folk and I've been instructed to drag your sorry carcasses all the way to King's Landing to be judged by the-" The man broke off for just a moment, as if not quite sure what words to use, "-by the King and Queen. The rest of you will be held here until your lords' loyalty has been assured, or not. Some Freys have been most helpful, telling us which cells the important ones are in. Some Freys have not been so helpful. When we go outside you'll be able to see them hanging. I would suggest you all keep your mouths shut, heads down, and we'll be rid of you soon enough. Now," He abruptly turned to a couple men standing beside him. "Get 'em up and moving. I want to be well on the road by sun high."

With that, there was a flurry of activity from the Targaryen soldiers and a wary silence from the prisoners. The row of people that Catelyn herself was chained to was suddenly jerked to there feet and prodded towards the doors at spear point. She only just realized that all the head of houses were there. Robb was behind her, the Greatjon ahead of her. She cast a quick glance back at her son, who gave her a grim smile and a muttered "At least they're not Lannisters."

Catelyn herself was not so sure this was any better. Robb was too young to know anything first hand about the Targaryens but she had grown up under the Mad King. She knew just how harsh and unforgiving the dragons had been. Young girl or no, Daenerys Targaryen, for Catelyn knew that must be who the queen was, could very well be the same. For the rest of her life, Catelyn would remember the letter that had come with the Targaryen seal and a handful of ashes. All that was left of the once Lord of Winterfell and his son and heir, her betrothed. She clenched her fists and tried not to stumble on the rock in the road, Catelyn Stark would die before she saw her last child taken from her.

They set up camp for the night outside of a small but surprisingly well kept town. The soldiers were able to pick up buy food, supplies, and other pleasures, while the prisoners were simply relieved to stop their march. Catelyn sat down heavily in the grass. There would be no sleeping roles and tents for them.

"Are you alright my lord, my lady?" Lord Umber's question was carefully hushed, she and her son had yet to be singled out. At first they had been confused, but then quickly realized that the Targaryen soldiers were mostly sellswords, probably come with the Queen from across the sea. Catelyn doubted they even knew why northern lords were being held at the Twins, much less that the Young Wolf was with them.

"We are as well as can be expected." Robb stated grimly. "Have you seen my uncle? We haven't been able to catch sight of him." Catelyn felt a jab of worry. Edmure Tully had been separated from them when the initial attack had happened and neither she nor Robb had heard of him since.

"I saw him walking up front a while back, don't you worry. That hair of his is hard to miss." The big man tried for a smile but produced a grimace instead.

"Thank you," Catelyn was going to ask after his son, but guards were coming near, delivering food, and she didn't want to risk punishment for talking.

The guard who dropped some bread and soup in front of her seemed to have no such qualms. "What's a pretty lady like you doing with this lot? I didn't think Westerosi men were in the habit of taking their women to war with them." He wasn't an overly intimidating man, but Robb stiffened beside and Catelyn ducked her head.

"I was only here for the Frey wedding, Ser." She knew she should keep quiet, but her need for information won out. "Please Ser, we've no idea what's been going on these past few months. Could you tell us about the state of King's Landing before we get there?" What she really wanted to ask about was the North, who held Winterfell and had there been any recent news of her daughters, but she didn't dare ask that.

The guard just gave snort and shook his head. "The Mother of Dragons sits the Iron Throne and her King is Warden of the North. There's nothing else you'll be needing to know." With that he walked off.

Catelyn exchanged a wary look with her son. Targaryens in charge of the north didn't sound like it would bode well for either of them and it only made the question of her daughters' whereabouts more pressing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Jon**

It had been nearly two months since Jon had been crowned King, and by the faintly annoyed look on the Queen's face at the moment, he knew everything was not going as smoothly as she had hoped.

"We need to speak." Daenerys spoke without any preamble.

"M'lady?" She shook her head.

"Not here. I've received reports from the North that you should know about, but I see no point in troubling the others."

"As you wish."

The walk to the Queen's suite was passed in silence.

"They are well?" Jon questioned as soon as they were seated at the desk.

"If you mean your cousins, then yes. They do as well as can be expected. I hear Sansa makes a striking lady and seems to be well loved. Rickon and Arya however, are much less suited to politics. I believe we can agree on that much at least."

Jon nodded, relieved. "And Bran, how fares he, with his ailment and all?"

Dany pursed her lips, looking at a piece of parchment. "It says he has made repeated attempts to journey back to the Wall, or perhaps he's goal is beyond it. Either way, I'll not have him leaving Winterfell. The Starks need to stay where they can be watched."

Jon smiled, thinking of the brave little boy he had known. "The Starks are willful folk, My Lady. If Bran feels he belongs beyond the Wall then there's no stopping him." His smiled faded. "But it isn't gossip about my cousins that concerns you?"

"No." Daenerys watched him carefully. "It would seem that the Northern lords have no intention of recognizing you as Lord of Winterfell. They believe the lives of the four remaining Stark children, along with your recent name change, have ended any obligations they may have had to you." Jon's blank expression did not change and Dany narrowed her eyes. "But you knew this would happen."

Jon leaned back with a small sigh. "The North followed me while I was liberating them from the Boltons and bringing them justice, but I was raised as the bastard of Winterfell. The North has never recognized me as a true Stark and never have I asked them to. Why should they now, of all times, when I bare the sigil of the three headed dragon?" Daenerys pursed her lips.

"I had hoped Sansa's presence might have tempered their anger against the new Targaryens."

"You thought wrong, My Lady, as I could have told you had you deigned to ask my advice. Sansa Stark has never bore me any particular affection and if you'll pardon my saying, she is a girl and a young one at that. I imagine she's hard pressed to keep all of her lords in order under the best of circumstances, which these most certainly are not. Winterfell is in shambles., very few if any of its advisors and caretakers are the same as when I was growing up there. Sansa Stark is very much alone and there is no one to stop the suitors which will inevitably come. Loyal as they may be, the Northern lords are just as ambitious as any others. Sansa will be pushed to wed and Winterfell with have a new lord."

Daenerys nodded. "And that, nephew, is my real concern. Disgruntled lords at the edge of my realm pose no immediate threat. The Tyrells, however, do. It would seem that Mace Tyrell is pushing his son Loras to wed the Lady Stark and I fear their intentions are less than honorable."

Jon frowned. "You think they want the North? Summer knights are not known to last long there."

"I think they want King's Landing and being able to ensure us the loyalty of the North would make for a good bargaining tool."

"Of course," Jon snorted. "Because that's all the North is to any of you, something to win, something to lose, just another piece in your games." He did not turn away from the Queen's glare. "Sansa would accept. That is why you're telling me this, is it not? In my opinion, from what limited knowledge I have of my cousin, she will accept."

Daenerys shook her head. "Of course she would, she's a young girl caught up in-"

"No." Daenerys made a noise of displeasure but Jon continued regardless. "Young girl or no, she would not accept because she wishes for a pretty husband, Sansa grew out of any romantic fantasies she may have had years ago. She'd do it because she knows she must wed and the Tyrells would make better allies than enemies. Especially with the North in such a tender state."

Daenerys said nothing for a long moment and when she did it was with a sudden confidence. "We are not wed, but I am the Queen."

"Yes." There was no doubt to that.

The Queen's voice softened. "Did you know, Jon, that I can bear no children?"

Jon's surprised must have showed for Daenerys gave a small smile. "I had thought not."

Again she fell silent. Jon was about to ask what this meant for their future when she spoke abruptly.

"Did you know Dornish men often took multiple wives?"

Jon stiffened. "I was under the impression we were Targaryen, not Dornish."

"Either way, there is an obvious solution."

Jon did not reply for a long moment. "You want me to take Lady Stark as my wife." It was not a question.

Daenerys gave him a coy smile. "Yes. The north will be loyal to the Starks regardless of who Sansa marries. You will ensure the Starks' loyalty to us."

Jon narrowed his eyes, asking impulsively, "And how can you assure my loyalty to you?"

The Queen's smile only widened. "We want the same thing Jon. Peace and prosperity for the land. The two of us have seen enough of life's horrors and would do anything to prevent such occurrences again. So why should I have any any doubts as to your loyalty when this arrangement is in the best interests of us both? Besides, anyone who has ever known you, can see that you have honor, and that's not something a lot of men can boast these days."

"And if I refuse? She is my sister."

"Cousin." She said sharply. "And don't forget it. No one else will. Her family helped in the destruction of mine."

"Only after your kin burned mine alive. We'd both do best to not forget those who came before us and the mistakes they made."

Dany let out an exaggerated sigh. "You still have some months to get used to the idea. As I've said before, no one is getting married until this Kingdom is in a better state." With that, she stood, and Jon quickly followed suit, showing himself out of her rooms.

Two weeks and one letter to Winterfell later, and Jon was holding a reply from Sansa Stark. To his surprise, Sansa seemed more ambivalent towards the Queen's recent idea than anything else. Her letter had been relatively brief, and written with the same kurt, but familiar way Jon had come to associate with the now grown up girl.

Dear Jon,

I thank you for writing me, I'm glad to have heard of this sooner rather than later, and your concern for my well being and the well being of Winterfell is touching. However, you needn't worry on my behalf. After everything I have been through, I have no desire to seek out marriage. When I was little I thought marriage was a thing of love, then later, a thing of duty, though the two do not have to be mutually exclusive. Now, however, I see that most men only want you for your body or for personal gain. To use you for your wealth, your lands, your looks. To manipulate you to make themselves more powerful. Despite many suitors, I have pushed off marriage for as long as possible, but I am aware that this cannot last forever. Winterfell needs heirs. Out of all my suitors, out of everyone in Westeros, you may be one of the few men I still trust, Jon. You speak of robbing me of my birth right, and for that alone I ask you to marry me. If you don't the Dragon Queen merely will find someone else to control me. And as you told me yourself, the wedding will not happen for months, the winds may very well change by then and I will not worry myself on this matter until it has been set in stone. I wish you well Jon, until I see you again,

Sansa Stark.

Jon gave a long sigh after rereading the letter. He hadn't expected anything different, honestly. For all of her childhood fantasies, his sister had grown into one of the most pragmatic women he knew. Shaking his head, he threw the letter into the fire. He didn't want this, any of this, but that didn't matter now. Daenerys Targaryen had come with dragons. She could have burned his home and his people to the ground, but she hadn't. It had been the Mother of Dragons who had saved all of Westeros from the threat beyond the Wall. If it hadn't been for her, and the fire her dragons had rained upon the northern wastelands, Jon could only shudder to think what would have become of them all. The wildlings had mostly been brought under control by Jon himself, but he had always known they weren't the true enemy. No, that had been the frozen Others, nearly unkillable, all but unstoppable. When Jon had first seen the young girl step down from the back of her large black dragon, he had not been filled with fear, as most of his men had, but with hope and an immense sense of relief. Of course, the reality had been less pleasant, but the Others were gone and any alternative had to be better. Jon sighed. Sansa was right, as usual. He'd agree to the Queen's terms, besides, as Sansa had said, marriage contracts were never set in stone. There was no use dwelling on matters that could very well change at a moment's notice.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter: Robb/Catelyn**

With the forceful march the former Frey prisoners had undergone, their journey to King's Landing had taken them only one week. As Robb walked through the front gates, marveling at the towers of the Keep, he wished it had gone on longer. Despite its beautiful structure, the Palace only filled Robb with anguish. This was where it had all started. When the Targaryens had been murdered, where King Robert died, where his father was beheaded and his men slaughtered. Robb had never been to this city before, but it was filled with painful memories nonetheless. Beside him, he could hear his mother's shuddering breaths and knew that she was faring worse than he.

The inside of the palace was no less magnificent, but significantly more eery. Outside, there had been people going about their daily lives, a sight that had been oddly reassuring. In here, they had passed few guards and fewer servants. All gave the prisoners cold stares.

In front of him, Robb heard a muttered curse and could see the sentiment echoed on other men as well. None of them thought they would be leaving this place alive. He wasn't sure he disagreed with them, but now was not the time to be showing weakness. He looked down at his torn and dirtied clothes, no doubt he looked like the walking dead. There would be little dignity for them before the King and Queen.

Robb clenched a fist in anger at the thought of the King who now fancied himself Warden of the North. No Southern Lord could ever hope to understand the wild ways of the North, and this fool hadn't even been bothered enough to try and control it from Winterfell itself, instead he was still sitting in the comfort of King's Landing.

Robb walked into Lord Umber in front of him when the line finally stopped in front of two imposing doors. Using the opportunity, the large man quickly bent down to whisper in Robb's ear. "Whatever they say, don't let them know who you are. The rest of us are just some rogue lords, with any luck they'll kill us quick. If they find out you're the King, there's no telling what they'll do."

Robb wanted to argue, but the fiery demise of his uncle and grandfather hung unspoken in the air between them. After that, there was no more time for talking. As the heavy doors swung open a single man was lead out of the throne room and the chain of northerners was tugged forcefully inside.

If there were many people in the room, Robb could not tell. The hall was silent except for the footsteps and clanking of chains and he kept his face trained determinedly on the floor. When they halted, he was shoved painfully to his knees, but he still kept his gaze averted, not out of fear that a woman he had never met would recognize him, but out of some stubborn twisted pride.

There was a long tense silence in which no one so much as moved. All Robb could hear were his mother's and the Greatjon's breathing on either side of him. Then, somewhere in front and above him, he heard the sound of soft steps. Someone had stood.

"These are northern lords." A man's voice. Robb froze. It sounded familiar, northern, but that couldn't be true. He didn't know anyone in this wretched place, much less the King, yet still a hint of doubt remained.

One of the guards standing behind him answered, thought it had been a statement, not a question. "Aye, Your Grace, and all were part of the Stark army. Their escorts said that all the common soldiers and other prisoners are still being held at the Twins."

Robb waited with bated breath, the Targaryens knew who they were now. It was the Queen who spoke this time. "Which one of you held the highest rank." Neither Robb nor Catelyn moved, and neither did anyone else to Robb's pride. "Which one of you will speak on behalf of your men." Still, there was no sound. "You shall all be returned to the North, to your homes and to your families, if only you do as I say. I ask of you now to swear your fealty to me, Daenerys Targaryen your Queen, and Jon Targaryen, your King, the Warden of the North, and the current Lord of Winterfell."

By the time she finished speaking, Robb could tell this was a woman unaccustomed to being ignored. He felt a small twinge of satisfaction. The hope that had arisen when she said their lives might be spared had quickly left when she asked for their loyalty. Robb had no desire to bow before a stranger, and he knew his lords would be even more opposed than he. As the silence stretched on, Robb grew weary. He doubted he would get out of this alive and was growing tired of the whole charade. Before he could speak, however, he was startled by a muttered curse from Lord Umber.

"You're Eddard Stark's bastard boy." As those words sunk in, Robb didn't think he could have lifted his head if he had wanted to. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. For a moment he was filled with genuine happiness, but then the realities of that statement settled in and he wanted nothing more that to be able to pretend that he had simply misheard the man. But then he remembered the voice and he felt stupid for not having noticed before. The Queen's next words only served to shake Robb further.

"Eddard Stark's bastard was a lie. This man is the legitimate son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen and he is now your King. You would do well to show some respect."

Whatever the woman said after that was lost on Robb. He let the voice of the Queen and the arguments of his men swim around him. Out of all the people he had lost, all the friends he had left behind, his bastard brother had always been a constant in his life. Even when their family had been split apart, the knowledge that Jon was on the wall, safe from the mess of the war, had provided a small comfort to the young King. The Queen's claims shook Robb to the core. In light of the fact that his brother (cousin?) was now the King, Robb couldn't even bring himself to doubt the truth behind her statements.

Around him, many of the men had stood and were now angrily shouting questions at the Mother of Dragons. Out of all the people who had betrayed Robb, he had never for a moment suspected anyone in his family capable of doing so. Even when Theon Greyjoy had stolen Winterfell and killed his brothers, Robb had been assured in the fact that his remaining family stood with him, even the bastard thousands of miles away on the wall. Because for all of Jon's fears, he had always been family. As much as Robb had looked up to Theon, Jon had been his brother in a way the older boy never could. Anger and fear began creeping unbidden through Robb's body. Why was Jon the King? Then Robb had the sinking suspicion that he knew how the North had come so easily under the control of Daenerys Targaryen. He had questioned why they would have submitted so readily to the South, but if Jon had somehow found a way to make them cooperate...but why? Why would Jon hand over his home to some dragon? But that dragon was Jon, Robb realized, Jon was the Targaryen King in charge of the North. He almost felt like laughing, it was a fear his mother had always had but which Robb had always found ridiculous as he had known his brother had never wanted it. Jon Snow the Warden of the North. And worse, Robb though, what had befallen his sisters? Slowly he stood.

"Stay back." That was the Greatjon again, Robb knew, but he simply shook his head slowly.

"No." He said, but it came out too quietly for anyone to hear. He repeated it more loudly. "No." He raised his head and met the gaze of the man who was, without a doubt, Jon Snow. "What have you done with my sister?"

* * *

When Catelyn Stark heard the Dragon Queen claim that her husband's bastard was in fact Lyanna Stark's child, she did not think she had ever been more surprised. Her first instinct was to start laughing hysterically. She was so very tired and this whole situation struck her as so very ridiculous. Out of all the people to run into at the end of the line, the bastard boy she could never bring herself to tolerate hadn't even crossed her mind. Then realization set in and so did anger. Ned had lied to her. Her own husband had lied to her about something that had had a major impact in her life. Logically, she knew why he had needed to hide the child, but the fact that he had not trusted her with the truth took her breath away.

Ridiculous. That was the only word for it. For fifteen, sixteen? Who knew how many years, Catelyn had always had the secret fear that somehow, someway, the bastard boy would steal everything that rightfully belonged to her own son. And now here they were. The former Lady Stark thought she should feel angry towards the boy, but she couldn't even begin to come up with ideas for how he ended up on that throne, and so she only felt resigned. But deep down, forcefully shoved out of conscious thought, there was a niggling hope. Surely the boy who had followed Robb around like a lost puppy and treated him like he was the world, the boy who had attended every lesson and every hunting trip alongside her son, surely that boy could not have turned into a man who would behead his own kin. But Theon Greyjoy had, and so Catelyn Stark did not allow that thought to cross her mind.

"Sansa Stark is alive and well. She's currently residing in Winterfell. As the Queen said, the North has been shown much mercy. Your siblings are safe, you have my word, however little that may mean to you now." Robb froze at Jon's wording. Siblings, he said, plural. Arya and Sansa were both safe. They were both safe. Of course the Queen hadn't killed them, Jon would never allow it. For a moment he felt silly for ever doubting his brother, then he remembered where they stood. Robb's anger slowly faded, being replaced by an overwhelming sense of confusion. How had Jon ended up here? What had he done and what was he planning to do?

"You're Robb Stark. A false king." Robb's gaze jerked towards the Queen and his mouth very nearly fell open. She was pretty alright, but young. So very young.

Robb looked her in the eyes. "I fought for the North, which was a kingdom unto itself long before the Targaryens came. I never wanted your cursed Iron Throne."

Her steely expression did not change. "Then will you swear loyalty?"

"No." Daenerys looked as if she wanted to speak, Robb spoke again, cutting her off. "I will not swear my loyalty to you. You have done nothing to earn it yet, besides not murdering my young sisters." Robb turned back to Jon, hastily trying to sort out his conflicting thoughts. "My bastard brother held my utmost trust, once. It was many years ago, now, and clearly many things have changed since then. What do you have to say, Jon Snow?" Once, there had been no one Robb had trusted more than his brother and best friend, he lost count of the times he had wished for Jon's presence as he stood surrounded by his battle council. Everything was different now, but Robb would be damned if he didn't at least give the other man a chance to explain himself. Desperately, he hoped that was a reasonable explanation for this. Arya and Sansa were alive, perhaps Jon had made some bargain for their lives.

Despite his best efforts, Robb could tell Jon was uncomfortable. "My Queen, these men and Lady Stark have clearly not been informed of recent event. Perhaps we could settle this more peaceably if we sat sat and talked it through." Robb's hopes were raised further. That was all he wanted at the moment. "Robb Stark is a reasonable man, if-"

"No!" Daenery's shout startled him. "I'll have their oaths now or not at all." Robb saw the challenging look she gave her King, and he realized that while Jon and Danaery might be King and Queen, there was no friendship between them. It was not Jon who spoke again, but the King, his voice hard and his words logical.

"The North has only just been rebuilt, Stark, but the peace we have at the moment will not last long. The North bent its knee to the dragons once before, now it has done so again. I ask you, with the best interests of everyone in mind, to swear fealty to me now." In a softer tone he continued, and Robb could hear the urgency in his voice. "Haven't we all lost enough in this gods forsaken war? The North can be as it was before all this started. You will not have your own kingdom, but there will be peace and safety for all the northerners, that I swear to you. You are a Stark. Lord of Winterfell or no, your actions carry weight, so please, rethink your answer."

Robb was silent for a long time. Beside him he could feel other lords began shifting anxiously. Jon spoke true. His decision would influence all of them. Pride dictated he say no. He would not be the one who knelt before a foreign ruler he did not know. He doubted she could be worse than Joffrey, but what if she was? What then? Reason, however, stopped him from speaking so hastily. What did he truly have to lose by saying yes? He would be at the Queen's mercy, but that wouldn't be any different if he said no. His gaze fell on Jon, and the genuine concern on the other boy's face made Robb's decision for him. Abruptly, he walked forward to stand directly before Jon. He could not bring himself to pledge to Daenerys, but he could do so for Jon.

"I, Robb Stark, former King in the North and Lord of Winterfell, pledge my allegiance to Jon Targaryen, the one true king of the seven kingdoms of Westeros." He knelt down on one knee. "I swear my loyalty to you and your kingdom from now until my death."


End file.
